When waking a tiger
by Little Miss Maybe
Summary: ... use a long stick. Yukimura was an airhead and often oblivious to the many subtleties of human communication when people were not as straightforward as he. But despite this "naivety," as Sasuke would call it, Yukimura was by no means ignorant. Date Masamune was flirting with him and he had no idea how he should feel about it. (SanaDate, Modern AU, only 20% porn this time)


Yukimura was an airhead and often oblivious to the many subtleties of human communication when people were not as straightforward as he; he loathed deception, seeing no reason to resort to trickery, and, consequently, expected the same blunt honesty of others (Sasuke had chided him for it on multiple occasions, citing that "trusting" was synonymous with "gullible). But despite this "naivety," as Sasuke would call it, Yukimura was by no means ignorant.

Date Masamune was flirting with him and he had no idea how he should feel about it.

The first time it happened, Yukimura had, truthfully, been baffled as to what Masamune's purpose was. It began with an exchange of numbers for the simple reason of convenience: Yukimura required assistance in his English class and Masamune could use some help in history, so they had agreed to study together at least once a week. Masamune pointed out that they would need to be able to contact each other outside of school, so Yukimura offered his number without a second of reflection. Thinking back on it, Masamune's grin _may_ have been teetering more on the side of a devious smirk, but at the time, Yukimura had paid it no mind. In fact, they did not even make use of their cell phones at all, preferring to go home straight from school. Yukimura forgot he had Masamune's number in the first place.

That is, he _had_ forgotten until one fateful afternoon when his phone buzzed.

Yukimura had been at soccer practice with Masamune earlier after school and his overzealous play style, as usual, had led him to become utterly _filthy_ with dirt and sweat. As soon as he had come home, he had taken a well-earned shower. Stepping out of the bathroom in only his boxers and a towel hanging around his neck, he was making his way to his dresser for some clothes when he heard his phone vibrate. Curious, he looked over at it. Who could possibly be-

_Date Masamune_ stared up at him from the screen. Yukimura furrowed his brow and picked it up. What reason would Masamune have for texting him right now? They had just seen each other at soccer practice and furthermore, had scheduled a study session the very next day. Had an emergency come up? Something uncomfortable twisted in Yukimura's gut - Masamune had _never_ texted or called him before - and he quickly checked the message. There were two, the first being from several minutes ago when Yukimura had been in the shower. A hint of guilt nudged his finger into hitting the button on his phone.

**Date Masamune:** _hey_

**Date Masamune:** _you there?_

Yukimura blinked. The text was so short, so… mundane. It spoke nothing of fear or sudden anxiety. Then again, Masamune had always been guarded about his more vulnerable feelings and Yukimura would never expect him to begin a conversation with an emotionally revealing comment - or, really, input any of those thoughts into the conversation at all without careful nudging. He began texting back.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _Yes, I am here. I sincerely apologize for not replying earlier - I was taking a shower to cleanse myself after our most vigorous battle._

A pause, then a bubble popped up, indicating that Masamune was typing back. Yukimura should not have felt as anxious as he did. Finally-

**Date Masamune:** _baby i'll be your shower ;)_

Yukimura narrowed his eyes, frenzied question marks swarming in his skull. Masamune's reply made a total of _zero_ sense. Last time he had checked, Masamune was a human being, not a plumbing device; with what angle was he even remotely like a shower? Furthermore, why was he indicating that he was winking? Yukimura was fairly certain that typing a winking face expressed something akin to sharing an inside joke of sorts, yet he remembered having no such conversation before.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _I am not sure I understand. What do you mean by "being a shower"?_

**Date Masamune:** _… nm_

Yukimura experienced another moment of confusion before remembering that "nm" was an abbreviation. He wracked his brain and eventually concluded that it must stand for "never mind," given the context. He had thought that speaking with Masamune was difficult in person, but texting was proving to be even more of a challenge.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _I see. I trust you will be attending school tomorrow?_

**Date Masamune:** _yea._

And that was that.

It was an odd conversation, to be sure, but Yukimura never found a good time to talk about it the next day when he saw Masamune at school. Still, he did not forget about the incident and pondered it for longer than he cared to admit. When Masamune came home with him to study, he could not prevent himself from stealing glances at his rival whenever he thought he could get away with it.

"Oi, Red," Masamune cut in with a frown, waving his hand in front of Yukimura's face. "Is something wrong? You've been acting kinda funky all day."

Yukimura blinked and then shook his head emphatically. "Nothing is- the matter," he replied, having begun his sentence without thinking and then halting to slow himself down. "I just..."

He stopped himself again. This was all in his head, was it not? Everything was perfectly normal, Masamune was no different than he was the day before, and Yukimura was worrying himself over nothing. He smiled pleasantly and said, "It is of no concern."

Masamune raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but shrugged and returned his attention to his work. Yukimura thought he saw a trace of a smirk as Masamune was turning his head away but decided he was wrong.

* * *

It was April and the weather was about as constant as Keiji's romantic interests. At least, that was how Sasuke had put it when Yukimura woke up one morning frozen in his bed. The temperature had been steadily rising the past week, so Yukimura had suggested they turn off the heater to save electricity. Now that brilliant idea was coming back to bite him in the rear.

Normally, Yukimura had an unusually high body heat, but a full night of being unconsciously exposed to the icy air with only his boxers to defend him had not gone in his favor. Shivering, a shaky yawn breaking his sleepy composure, he reached for his phone to shut off the alarm clock. When he looked, he was surprised once more to find a text from Masamune.

**Date Masamune:** _cold_

Yukimura grinned through his sleep-cracked lips. Masamune had never been especially coherent in the mornings and somehow, receiving a text like this was endearing. He briefly wondered why they had never thought to text before.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _The temperature has dropped significantly overnight. Sasuke and I turned off the heater, and our apartment is less than warm._

Masamune's typing bubble was present for over a minute. Yukimura imagined Masamune still huddled under his covers, his hair a mess and eyes half closed as he fumbled with the keyboard, cursing clumsily under his breath. He found he was not that cold anymore.

**Date Masamune:** _do w hav to go 2 scool_

Yukimura buried his face in his pillow to suppress a giggle. He should not be laughing at the expense of his friend, but the message seemed to brighten the room. Masamune really was hopeless in the morning.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _Yes. Our education is of the utmost importance and not a single day should be wasted!_

**Date Masamune:** _:;_

**Date Masamune:** *_:(_

**Date Masamune:** _rnt u cld th o_

It took a moment to decipher the message as "aren't you cold though." Yukimura had to cover his hand with his mouth before he laughed again.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _A little, but the fire blazing in my soul will never be defeated by the cold._

Another long pause for Masamune to type out a response.

**Date Masamune:** _bby ill kep u warm ; )_

And there it was again. Once Yukimura recognized the message as "baby I'll keep you warm" with that winking face, he found himself, just as before, struck dumb. How exactly was he supposed to reply to such a message? What was Masamune insinuating?

**Sanada Yukimura:**_ And how do you intend to do so?_

This message took even longer than all the rest and Yukimura got the distinct impression that Masamune was concentrating on being marginally clearer.

**Date Masamune:** _id take u way down south babe_

**Date Masamune:**_ ;)_

That cleared almost nothing up.

Yukimura was typing a generic response when the meaning of the winking emoticon hit him like a bolt of lightning.

Was Masamune making _innuendos_? And for that matter, he was referring to Yukimura as "baby" and "babe," titles typically used as pet names between a couple - was Masamune _hitting on him_? Yukimura experienced the oddest mix of shame at not having realized sooner and embarrassment at the actual content of Masamune's subtle messages, lined with the electric thrill of- something. Yukimura could not be sure what. Either way, the morning cold no longer affected him; his cheeks, the tips of his ears, even the back of his neck burned.

Hastily erasing his original text - something half-formed about visiting the south - he wrote a quick "see you at school" and dropped his phone on the bed, hurrying to get dressed. He had a hard time buttoning up his shirt because the buttons kept slipping through his trembling fingers. He pointedly ignored the buzzing of his phone.

* * *

Yukimura was _not_ running away. He was simply... _skittish_. He had no idea how to act around Masamune anymore. Every expression Masamune made at him, every glance in his direction gave him unexplainable chills. They talked very little that day at school - a short greeting and Yukimura awkwardly shifting his gaze anywhere but Masamune's face because he did not know what he would _find_ there and did not even understand why he was suddenly so apprehensive.

Masamune was confused too. Yukimura could tell by the way Masamune watched him when he thought he was not paying attention but Yukimura was _always_ paying attention. He saw the way Masamune arched his eyebrow and then flattened it, forehead wrinkling in deep thought, and Yukimura wanted nothing more than to smooth out the creases that did not belong on such a beautiful face-

And thoughts like that were precisely the reason Yukimura would have to affix his eyes elsewhere, hands fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt.

When he lay down in bed, he was setting his alarm clock as he received another text. He selected it with _totally_ steady fingers.

**Date Masamune:** _what was up with you today_

Yukimura bit his lip and hesitantly began to type back, unsure of what he should say. How could he explain what he was feeling without making it seem as though Masamune had wronged him?

**Sanada Yukimura:** _My constitution was not at its best._

It was not a _lie_, just not the whole truth.

**Date Masamune:** _you seemed more than just out of it to me_

Yukimura winced internally. Masamune was always far more perceptive than he let on. There was really no point in dodging reality when it came to him.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _In truth, I was unsure of how to speak with you normally after all the intimate messages you have sent me. When I tried, it was as though my breath were taken from me._

Yukimura sent it before he could delete it. He had typed more than he meant to, but ultimately Masamune was his rival and _friend_, someone he should always be able to confide in without fear of reprimand. He waited for the reply without moving a single muscle, eyes trained on the screen.

**Date Masamune:** _you couldnt breathe?_

A clarifying question was not what he had been hoping for, but the conversation was going in the right direction.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _I suppose you could describe it in such a manner. It was most strange a sensation._

The response did not take very long, but to Yukimura, it seemed like hours.

**Date Masamune:** _baby i hope you can survive without oxygen bc ill be stealing it all from you ;)_

Yukimura had to reread it twice before he slammed his phone down on the bedside table and burrowed under his blankets like it would protect him from the image. The trouble was that it was already inside his mind, eating his thoughts, and no blanket could hide him from it.

How exactly _would_ Masamune steal his breath? Would he push Yukimura against the nearest wall and forcibly suck the air from his lips? Or would he coax it out from his mouth gently with honeyed words and soft caresses, his eye half-lidded, whispering into his ear, heated, simmering touches evaporating Yukimura's ability to do anything but _feel_-

Yukimura dropped his head woefully against his pillow and silently screamed into it.

* * *

Yukimura hated running away, was repulsed by the very idea with every fibre of his being. Running away was for cowards, for those who did not have the will to stand up for themselves. Yet, here he was, himself a coward, shrinking away from the possibility of change.

Everytime Masamune entered a room, Yukimura was careful to cite an excuse and dart out the door as soon as possible. His phone continued to ring with texts, messages he (read religiously, memorized every word-) never replied to. When they passed in the halls, Masamune always shot him an odd look, one at first filled with silent questions and then one of distant confusion. Yukimura recognized the distance as the same cowardice he was experiencing - Masamune had feelings he was unwilling to face as well and so attempted to evade them.

This went on for at least a week. Every single day, Masamune would send him _something_, whether it was just a quick "hey" or a longer description of what he was doing. It was surreal; they saw each other every day, yet they were - or rather, Masamune was - communicating as if they were separated by oceans.

But today - today was a weekend and Yukimura breathed a sigh of relief. Today, at least, he had the short-lived reprieve of not having to avoid Masamune every waking moment. The texts, however, continued. They began normally, following the pattern Masamune had unknowingly laid out. The first was a greeting, followed by an update every hour or so.

**Date Masamune:** _hey_

**Date Masamune:** _its alot warmer today_

**Date Masamune:** _kojuros nagging me to go outside but todays a video game kinda day ya see_

**Date Masamune:** _kojuro made me go outside_

**Date Masamune: **_found chosokabe_

**Date Masamune:** _i think the idiots tryin to seduce that sprouty kid_

**Date Masamune:** _whats the drinking age anyway_

The texts stopped there for several hours. It was getting late and Yukimura was honestly beginning to feel a twinge of uncertainty. He knew Masamune could take care of himself, fully trusted his judgement, but it was such a suspcious final message and the texts were never cut off so abruptly. Masamune always made sure to end with a "good night."

Yukimura busied himself in the meantime, doing anything he could think of to stop himself from obsessively checking his phone and then looking out the window as the sun got lower, _anything_ to stop the barrage of worrisome thoughts. He cleaned his already spotless room three times, actually finished all of his homework, and (attempted) to cook dinner. The last of his self-imposed chores did not go very well and Sasuke chased him out of the smoky kitchen with orders to "go do something productive." Yukimura had already done everything he could think of and it was too late at this point to go outside so he returned to his room to sulk.

Just as he was sitting on his bed, Yukimura's phone lit up. He made a grab for it more eagerly than he would ever concede to and checked his messages.

**Date Masamune:** _spell me_

Yukimura stared at the two words as if the harder he looked, the quicker it would transform into something that made sense. Getting increasingly concerned, Yukimura finally typed back.

**Sanada Yukimura: **_I beg your pardon?_

After a few moments, the reply arrived.

**Date Masamune:** _lik th word_

**Date Masamune:** _me_

It was a strange request, to say the least. Furthermore, though Masamune was not an especially attentive writer, he generally did not blatantly leave out letters unless it was in the morning. Yukimura chose to not think about how he had grown so observant of Masamune's habits and instead focused on the conversation.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _Okay... "m" "e."_

**Date Masamune:** _u frgot the d_

What?

**Sanada Yukimura:**_ I do not believe there is a "d" in "me"..._

**Date Masamune:** _nt yet ; )_

"Not yet"? What did that-

Yukimura only had to think about it for a moment before blood colored his face. Masamune had not been _timid_ before, but this was a new level of crass.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _Is everything all right? What is you're current situation?_

**Sanada Yukimura:** _Forgive me, I meant "your."_

He hoped the next response would shed some light on what exactly was happening.

**Date Masamune:** _it not ur or yu're_

**Date Masamune:** _its mne_

**Date Masamune:** _ur all min e_

Yukimura's ever-strange mix of mortification and feverishness was so heavy that he could not even bring himself to type back before Masamune sent another text.

**Date Masamune:** _rote u a poem bt w_

**Date Masamune:** _roses r red, vilets r blu,_

**Date Masamune:** _gues waht my beds got room fr 2 ;)_

The writing was sloppy but Yukimura nevertheless understood the implications and hid his face in his hands from the screen. He felt like it was judging his embarrassment.

Several minutes passed with Yukimura breathing through his fingers. Finally, he built up enough courage to check his phone once more.

**Date Masamune:** _ row ro roe yr boar gently cown the dtream_

**Date Masamune:** _merily merrilt merilly metilly i willmake yku screanm_

**Date Masamune:** _teinkle twinlke littld star we shoild do it in A car_

**Date Masamune:** _;)()_

Yukimura could not believe what he was reading. He shut his eyes, calming his speeding pulse. He licked his dry lips and diverted his attention away from such poorly communicated images, absolutely did not pay any mind to the fact that it was _Masamune_ who came up with them, who envisioned them first, certainly did not entertain ideas of Masamune lying awake at night, unable to think of anything but Yukimura, clenching his teeth, sweat running down his temple as his breathing stuttered, spreading his-

Yukimura's eyes flew open and he exhaled heavily. No, he most certainly was not thinking about any of those things. His phone vibrated in his shaking hand. There was another message from Masamune, but it was different.

**Date Masamune:** _hey sorry 'bout all that_

Yukimura narrowed his eyes in confusion as he read it. Another text arrived soon after.

**Date Masamune:**_ oh right this is chosokabe. little blue decided to come drinking with mori and me even though i told him it was a bad idea._

**Date Masamune:** _pretty sure it's illegal too._

**Date Masamune:** _anyway no need to worry, i got him home. he seemed pretty upset about something though. you know anything about that?_

Relief soothed the pumping of his heart but guilt increased the rush of blood once more. Masamune was not in danger, but it was Yukimura surmised it was his actions - or lack of action - that had led him to try to drown out his sorrows and Yukimura had not even known about it. It was Chosokabe who brought him home, Chosokabe who dealt with his drunken ramblings, Chosokabe who settled him into bed. But Yukimura did not even _know_.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his self-reflection. It seemed several minutes had past while he was lost in thought.

**Date Masamune:** _well it's fine if you don't wanna explain, i get it. but whatever happened, don't let it sit for too long, ok? little blue's more fragile than he likes to admit._

Yukimura smiled weakly at the screen. Chosokabe was unruly and rough around the edges, but he was a good man with an honest heart. He was more perceptive about others than one might initially believe.

**Sanada Yukimura:** _I thank you Chosokabe, truly. I cannot express the depth of my gratitude._

**Date Masamune:**_ np. i'm going home now. handing the phone back to blue. he's sobering up so hopefully he shouldn't send you any weird stuff._

Yukimura was not sure Chosokabe's prediction would prove correct - after all, Masamune had been sending him "weird stuff" with a perfectly clear head for quite some time - but nevertheless, he was glad to hear the update. He resolved to leave the situation alone for the moment and speak to Masamune about what had gone on between the two of them in the morning.

* * *

Yukimura woke to vibrations on his chest. Forcing his eyes open to darkness, a disoriented sickness lurched in his stomach. Was the room spinning? He tried to sit up but discovered his head was pounding and he lay back with a groan. He slowly gained his bearings, deducing that he had accidentally fallen asleep after talking to Chosokabe. He had not eaten dinner and felt the uncomfortable gnawing of an unscheduled rest grasp him. The lights in his room were off and a blanket had been carefully placed on top of him; Sasuke must have come in to check on him sometime after he had lost consciousness.

He almost drifted off again when he realized what had woken him. He had been holding his phone over his chest and it was buzzing incessantly. Someone was calling him. Without checking the Caller ID, Yukimura picked up the call and brought the phone to his ear, mumbling a sticky, "Hello?"

"Yukimura." He recognized Masamune's voice on the other end of the line but he was too bewildered by his unintentional nap to feel anything but indifferent surprise. "Hey, uh. Sorry, did I wake you up?"

Yukimura rubbed his eyes viciously, willing his mouth to ungum itself. "Ye-" A yawn interrupted him. "Yeah, I… What time is it?"

"Almost one in the morning." He could hear Masamune's sigh of frustration. "I can call back tomorrow."

"No, it's- it's okay," Yukimura replied hastily. The words still felt unnatural on his clumsy tongue. It was a struggle to get them out of his mouth. "What was your reason for calling?"

There was a long silence and Yukimura thought the call had been dropped until Masamune finally spoke up.

"I wanted to apologize for, for all those things I sent you," he said, voice low. There was something scratchy in it too, but Yukimura could not identify what. "I realize it was, uh... inappropriate. And uncalled for. You're probably really weirded out right now."

Yukimura shook his head, forgetting Masamune could not see it. "I was not 'weirded out.'"

"You _were_ avoiding me though," Masamune retorted. There was a concealed bitterness in his tone that Yukimura would have missed had he not been so familiar with the variations of his voice. The shame that flooded him loosened his jaw.

"If it is honesty you desire, than I shall explain." Yukimura was sure that, just as he had sensed Masamune's hurt, Masamune could tell that he was concealing a frantic state with his formal language. He maintained respectful silence while Yukimura spoke. "When you first texted me, I was perplexed. I could not discern your intentions and feared for a loss of what I believe is a relationship of mutual understanding." The words were pushed from Yukimura's lips before he could stifle them. If he wanted to salvage their bond, he would have to be as honest as he had always strived to be. "Slowly I came to realize that what you were saying - the confusing texts you were sending me - they were venturing into territory I was not comfortable with. What I should have done was confront you immediately, but I..." He took a breath. "I must apologize," he said softly. "I did not treat our rivalry with the respect it deserves. I was cowardly and chose to run away from the issue instead of facing and defeating it directly."

"You don't have to be sorry," Masamune said after a short silence. "I'm the one who screwed things up in the first place. I wasn't paying attention and I... Jesus, Yukimura, I just-" He stopped himself abruptly with a self-deprecating groan.

"What?" Yukimura prompted.

"I'm not good with words," he began, his volume barely above a whisper, " and my head hurts like hell right now so this ain't gonna be poetry or anything, and don't take this the wrong way, but I meant it. Before. All those things I said, they were stupid, but I think I might like you and I didn't know how to tell you without freaking you out so I did it but I freaked you out anyway so now I figured I should just say it straight out and I'll totally accept whatever you think about me after this, I get it if you never wanna speak to me again, I just can't deal with keeping it all a secret so-"

"Masamune."

"- I know that wasn't the right way to tell you how I felt and I'm really sorry about-"

"Masamune."

"- I mean, even if you don't feel the same about me, I wouldn't even mind if you didn't wanna be friends anymore, but if we could still be rivals-"

"_Masamune_!"

Masamune finally halted his disorganized ramble when Yukimura raised his voice. "What?" he asked. He was clearly trying to come off as indifferent to the outcome of this encounter, but Yukimura could hear the slight waver of anxiety at the final syllable.

"You did not 'freak me out,'" Yukimura assured him. "Furthermore, our bond is far too deep to be broken by such a trivial miscommunication as this." He smiled at Masamune's barely concealed breath of relief. The fact that even someone as composed as Masamune was distressed made Yukimura feel more at ease. Speaking slowly, he continued. "In truth, I was not, ah, upset by your words. I was shocked, but I have come to understand that what I experienced was not disgust."

"Then," Masamune paused, swallowed, and Yukimura's smile widened - he was so obvious about his emotions sometimes. Hope creeping into his tone, Masamune urged, "What did you feel, if not disgust?"

"Exhilaration." Yukimura laughed gently. "I had never thought of doing such intimate things with you before, but when you suggested them, I did not find them repulsive. In fact, I can sincerely tell you that I am plagued by curiosity."

"I could help you," Masamune said in one breath. He must have been ashamed by his excitement and added haltingly, "I mean, I could- we could try it. Together. If you wanted."

"That would be most agreeable," Yukimura replied softly.

"If you were here, um…" Masamune trailed off, awkward but expectant, assuming Yukimura knew where he was going.

"Yes?"

Somewhat shyly, he eventually asked, "What would you do?"

Yukimura was mystified by the question. "What would I do?" he repeated.

"Yeah, like, uh, what would you do… to me…" Masamune's volume was decreasing steadily. Yukimura got the gist of what he meant, nevertheless.

Cheeks flushing, Yukimura maintained his composure as best he could - his hands were quaking terribly, but he did not let it seep into his voice. "Well I was planning on beginning with a kiss, I suppose."

Masamune's following inhale was shaky. "And then what?" His volume had dropped so low that the phone could barely pick it up, but there was not a sound in the house and Yukimura was listening closely.

"Then I would escort you to bed," Yukimura proceeded. "I would lay you down and undress you with the reverence you deserve."

"Then- then what?" Masamune asked distractedly. Yukimura could hear a faint rustling in the background.

"Ah, I would..." Yukimura had to ponder his next move. What _would_ he do if he had Masamune with him right now, had him spread out on his bed, naked, willing, _beautiful_, that pale neck exposed and vulnerable, just _begging_ to be stained-

Yukimura's throat constricted his words and he had to drag them past his lips. "Your- Your neck," he forced out, "I would kiss you there first, then bite down, to leave a warning for anyone else who would dare claim you."

"_Shit_ Yukimura," Masamune breathed. "Didn't realize you had a, a possessive side."

"Only with you," Yukimura admitted, shutting his eyes and laying back against his pillow. The room had become unbearably hot somehow - did Sasuke turn the heater back on? His clothes were too restrictive either way. His shirt was on the other side of the room in a matter of seconds, soon to be followed by his pants.

"Wouldn't just let you do that though," Masamune mumbled. His mouth was too close to the phone, distorting the clarity somewhat. Yukimura decided he was probably holding it between his cheek and his shoulder, freeing his hands. "Wouldn't let you just- _take_ me. I'd make you fight, _you see_?" He was quickly gaining back his easy confidence. Yukimura felt a shiver run through him.

"And I would fight," he insisted, his words wispy without air but dense with determination. "I would- I _will_ prove to you that I am worthy of you."

"_Really_." He could _feel_ the smirk in Masamune's voice, could practically _taste_ the bitter cinnamon of his lips. "You'll _prove_ it to me, huh? And how're ya gonna do that, Red?"

_Red_. So he was not using Yukimura's name, was he? Well, Yukimura would _make_ him.

"I will kiss you so long and so hard that you can no longer breathe without me," Yukimura began. It was a wonder the fire blazing in his chest had not devoured the oxygen from his lungs already. "You will have nothing left except for what I offer you."

Masamune cursed quietly, but remained stubborn. "You think I need to breathe? _Try me_."

_Shit_. His voice just was not _fair_. Ignited desire overwhelmed minimal guilt and Yukimura gave in, surrendered himself to the beast roaring within him, _demanding_ satisfaction. "Very well then," he gasped as his hand found itself wandering between his legs. "You may scoff, but I will not be deterred. I will not be satisfied by your mouth and lungs alone. I will mark every inch of your skin as my own, I will leave not a single part of you untouched. My teeth and lips will know your body more thoroughly than even the water that is graced with the honor of cleansing you."

Masamune groaned with a skittering exhale. "That really shouldn't be sexy, Red," he said between clenched teeth. Yukimura did not bother pointing out that Masamune seemed to be finding his words quite sexy enough, regardless of what was normally expected. "But hey, I'm still speaking over here just fine. What happened to all that 'proving yourself worthy' crap?"

Yukimura bit back a high-pitched cry when he finally pressed his palm to his groin. He had to remember that Sasuke was just a few rooms away, was such a light sleeper, could hear him at any moment, but it was s_o difficult_ with Masamune's voice in his ears clouding out all other thoughts. "Once- Once I have finished memorizing every piece of you," he panted, "I will hold you down and-"

"Suck me off," Masamune hissed, "_Shit_ Yukimura, _please_."

Yukimura did not mind being interrupted in the least with Masamune sounding so desperate. The _please_ alone was toxic to his self-control, but the way Masamune said his name was utterly _vulgar_; he silently cheered his minute victory in defeating the nickname _Red_.

"Y-Yes," he agreed, words slurring with the rush to get them out, unable to keep himself any longer from shoving his boxers down. Despite his haste, his voice was still astonishingly even, if only too fast. "I will begin with teasing grazes, barely touching, kissing your thighs, returning closer and closer, only to stray once more, until you have become so _twisted_ by lust that you will no longer allow such juevenile behavior and force my hand."

And _God_, the _moan_ that slipped from Masamune's lips was a vice so damnable that Yukimura felt his soul would remain sullied for the rest of eternity, never to be purified again. He wanted Masamune's fingers snarled in his hair, lips knotted with his, the heady weight of a cock on his tongue, _needed_ his other half to fill the space left behind when they separated, a spirit so thoroughly entangled in his that parting was always partial, always leaving parts behind, part of him in Masamune, part of Masamune in him-

"_Yukimura_-" His name on the lips of a dragon was _wicked_, a cruelty that scorched his heart, left him _aching_ and branded, made him stray from the path of the righteous and lose himself in the brambling thorns, would never again find his way back to the light for all he needed was the spark of a warm hearth to know he was _home_.

"Masa- Masamune," Yukimura's helpless outburst was but a simpering echo, weak with an insatiable hunger that overwhelmed his capabilities and made him _sick_ with greed, "_please_, Masamune..." He could not remember when his hand had begun frantically pumping, but it was not _enough_.

"Fuck me," Masamune pleaded, as if whispering the holiest of prayers. "I can't- _Fuck_, Yukimura, if you don't I swear to_ God_."

There was no need to complete the threat.

"I want you, I _want you_ so fucking _much_," he continued, rambling, unapologetic, words thick and unwieldy. "You, you fucking _asshole_, I've wanted you so bad for so _damn long_, but you're so-" He cut himself off with a muted gasp. "_Yuki_-"

Yukimura recognized the cracked cry as a reflection of his own reckless frenzy ushering him to a sore conclusion. His arms were too miserably empty, mouth too wretchedly loose, heart too frigidly lonely to be nearing the end, but he could not halt the rush any more than he could fill the hollow crevice in his chest with himself alone.

A charge of painful lightning shot through him as Masamune cursed out a graceless climax. There was a surge of some natural chemical in his brain telling him he felt pleasure, but it was distant, as if he was experiencing the sensations of another. Doubt infested the assurances of his mind for how could he be sure of anything without Masamune by his side, pressed to his chest, lips against his instead of the cold receiver?

"I- Masa... Masamune," Yukimura fought through heaving gulps of air, "I need, I need you." Steadying himself, he poured out the flood of emotion that had overcome him. "My soul ignites for no other, my heart yearns for nothing but yours. I cannot help but feel that these turbulent tides within me should not be ignored for you harbor a sea not unlike my own."

A breathless laugh floated through from Masamune's end. "Was that-" He sacrificed another mouth of oxygen for an additional chuckle. "That some kinda confession, Red?"

Yukimura, true to his nickname, felt his cheeks color. "I was simply describing-"

"Yukimura." He shut up immediately. The way Masamune's lips molded his name was like nothing else and he dared not waste it. Masamune sighed, exhausted but not exasperated. "Look, I... I get it," he said shortly.

Yukimura frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I'm saying I feel the same," Masamune snapped. "Jesus, after all that, do I really have to spell it out for you?"

Yukimura's face lifted, the previous concern melting from his features, leaving his body with an airy lightness despite the fatigue. "Thank you," he murmured into his phone, voice low, fondness oozing from every syllable. He grinned when he heard Masamune's breath hitch.

"Tomorrow," Masamune spoke up suddenly. "Tomorrow, before school, meet me behind the soccer field."

"_Before _school?" Yukimura asked. "Surely whatever it is can wait until-"

"I _can't_, Yukimura," Masamune clarified, the lingering hints of deperation grasping at the edges of his fading voice. "When I see you tomorrow, I won't be able to control myself, see?" Yukimura's eyes widened in the dark.

"O-Oh..."

Another amused laugh. "See ya 'round, Sanada Yukimura."

The line was cut but Yukimura still clung to his phone, balancing his racing lungs with his zealous heart. He should take a shower immediately, should begin worrying about how he was going to do the laundry without Sasuke finding out, but he found himself still on his bed several minutes later, absentmindedly tracing his lips with his thumb.

_Tomorrow..._

Truth be told, he would be unable to control himself either.


End file.
